Towards the Light
by ghost013
Summary: AU: Lightning learned at a young age the difficulties of life and has struggled since then. Hope is just beginning to learn the same lesson because of a recent tragedy. A story of their bonds, struggles and triumphs.


I originally had written a story after FF13 had come out for a while. Sadly, I lost it before I ever got to post it. Now here I am with a new one. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this story, so I'm kind of winging this as I go. Anyway, don't expect any updates in awhile since I'm busy. All characters belong to Square Enix and all other rightful owners.

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The moon shined like a dim flame in the darkness. Silent clouds hovered above in the sightless night sky as the wind echoed though the hollow city. Skyscrapers filled the heavens, their steel tops piercing the horizon like needles on water. Ruling above, their gaze stares down like cruel tyrants scrutinizing at their helpless subjects. From afar, they stand like iron giants silently towering over the sleeping inhabitants of the city. If the city had eyes, they were closed fast asleep, blinded by the black of the night. But listening carefully, the sound of its breath can be heard, breezes of wind, flowing in and out. Millions of sleeping residents, hidden away in their households, slumber the night away. Their breathing reverberates past walls and doors; together they combine into one single breath. A city almost as alive as a living conscious human, built from the hands of old ideals and deep-rooted traditions. Grand, exquisite, and imposing; words that described Cocoon City on everyone's lips.

But beneath the exterior of this city, a different kind of world lies within. At the bottom of the towering structures, the night air envelops the cold hard ground, smothering everything with its icy touch. Neon lights from empty dingy stores flare up like big multi-colored candles, flickering and burning throughout the nightly roads. Tiny drops of water and grease drizzle down the sides of stainless metal shells of parked cars, forming muddy puddles on the empty streets. The smell of musky oil and rusting metal stenches the entire block; seeping from every crack from the surrounding buildings. Suddenly, a loud siren screams through the air and echoes throughout walls, trees and vehicles. The rustle of a fierce wind thrashes the neighborhoods, throwing bits of trash and dirt all over the streets. Flashing beams from soaring cars, passing like a heartbeat, throb and shine through the darkness, resembling fireflies in the night. Not a single soul can be heard or seen; only the shadows accompany the ghost of a city for now. A rare night indeed.

However, in the midst of this sleeping city, a sole female figure silently walks through the cold stale air, the sound of her footsteps resonate against the immense buildings. Although alone, her firm stance as she steps holds not even a hint of fear or concern for her dangerous surroundings. The atmosphere around her exudes confidence and control, qualities seldom found in a rundown place like this neighborhood. A sudden rough breeze drafts around her, ruffling her gray hooded jacket and scraping the denim of her faded blue jeans. The glimmering of the moon shines above, reflecting off her leather belt and knee-high boots as her long legs stroll forward through the streets. Underneath her hood, a heart shaped face with skin as white as pearls silently observes her surroundings like a bird of prey. Strands of her long hair, parted to one side, flutter softly in the radiance of the moonlight glowing a soft pink light. Sky blue eyes stare straight into the darkness, as if challenging the blackness to try and consume her. Like a fire in the darkness, she alone seems to shine among the gray nature of this city.

"What was that, punk!?" An angry voice suddenly popped from an abandoned alleyway nearby.

"Try saying that again!" Another voice appeared from the same direction.

"I'm going to make you regret ever coming here!" A third voice joined the mad chorus.

Surprised, but unfazed at the abrupt noises, the young lady stops for a moment to glance at the source of the sounds. She can make out three people bunched together around in a semi-circle, kicking and yelling in frenzy like wolves devouring their prey.

"Come on!"

"Not so tough now!"

"Get up rich boy!"

"I'm going to beat up your sorry ass even more!"

"Where'd all that confidence from before go?!

"Twerp!"

"Picking a fight with us will be the last thing you ever do!"

Howling and stomping like mad men, the group continued to torment whoever the unlucky victim was. In the middle of this mob, there appeared to be a young boy huddled into a small ball, measly fending off the brutal onslaught the best he could. He looked around the age of a middle school student, compared to his much older attackers. His short silver hair was covered in dirt, growing dirtier with each kick. Blood streaming down from his nostrils stains the ground with a dark crimson. One side of his face is already purple with pain, the other also beginning to bruise. They kick him mercilessly, hitting every part of his body as if punting a ball.

"Enough," a clear voice rang through the darkness.

Startled by the sudden sound, the hoodlums stop their attack. Looking up, they see her standing alone in the streets, the moonlight and shadows covering her like two shrouds. She stares straight at them with the eyes of a soldier, her figure relaxed and composed. Arms crossed, the young lady calmly awaits their response as the night begins to end.

"Enough," she repeats with a stronger voice.

"Who the hell are you?" One grunt growls in reply.

"Mind your own damn business."

"If you know what's good for you, then scram."

However, the lone figure remains rooted where she stands, ignoring their threats as if they were the whispering of the wind. Streams of sunlight start to appear behind her as the dawn reaches the city. Her eyes remain focused ahead, unaware or uncaring to the scenery behind her. But the light of the sun continues to radiate behind her, growing brighter bit by bit as the seconds passed by. She was the spitting image of goddess, calm and ready for a fight.

The three thugs begin to shift their full attention away from the injured boy and to the new intruder. From their point of view, all they see if a young frail woman, no threat to them at all. Yet, they sense something. Something about the way she stands. The look she gives at them. They start to move towards the street, sneering but cautious as they circle their new target like vultures.

"You should have left when you had the chance."

"Should've stayed home sweetie."

"Nowhere to run now."

"This is going to be fun."

They continue to circle around her, making crude taunts and violent threats with each step. They're confident, cocky; their numbers give them the advantage. Like sharks swimming around their next meal, they inch closer and closer.

"No one here, but you and us. Bet you're regretting this now," one jeers at her, a sneer in his every word.

As they continue to advance on her, the poised lady has yet to move a single step. Composed but attentive like a warrior, she continues to pay no attention to their mocking. Her face shows no signs of fear or worry, just contempt and a hint of amusement.

"Should I be?" She smiles a little, almost entertained at the thought. "I see nothing worth regretting about at all."

Her comment easily riles up two of her aggressors, immediately they begin to move forward. But the last one manages to keep his cool; he stops the others with a wave of his hand. His influence over the rest of the group appears to make him the leader.

"So another fool appears, huh. We seem to keep running into them today. Like that idiot who tried to pick a fight with us over there," the de facto leader points his thumb back toward the alleyway. The young boy is still lying on the ground, unaware of the events before and now.

"Listen," the leader smugly continues. "I don't know what you're trying to do, playing hero or whatever. But I'm already tired from kicking the snot out of that kid. So I'm going to give you a chance to walk away."

"Oh," the young lady raising an eyebrow and tilting her head slightly to the side. "And what would that be?"

"You get on your knees and beg, beg for our forgiveness. Then we might consider letting you go. After you provide us with some service of course," he chuckles conceitedly, leering at her with an ugly look. The tension in air seems to slowly increase as the morning light also seeps through the horizon.

"Hmmm, let me think for a second," she pauses with an amused look on her face. Five seconds later, she replies, "No, I don't think so."

"Well, that's too bad. Looks like it's going to be the hard way," the thug leader sighs in disappointment, poising to strike.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the young lady replies steadily, still not moving a single muscle despite her circumstances. "Besides, I don't think it should be tough to beat up three guys who have to gang up against a kid to win."

"Ha ha. We'll see if you still think that later. Get her!"

In a sudden moment, all three brutes rush at her from different sides like wolves coming in for the kill. But just as soon as the onslaught starts, the fighting ends at the near exact moment as well. Like a flash of lightning, the female figure accurately kicks under the chin of the frontrunner, instantly knocking him down into sleeping submission. Turning to face the next one, she easily dodges his first strike as the last closes in from behind. On instinct, using the momentum of his thrust, the apparently frail woman expertly grabs the ruffian and flings him over her shoulder, landing him right into his last friend. The force of her throw knocks the two together into the ground like a meteor smashing into the land.

"Well, that's finally over," the victorious fighter mutters to herself quietly as she looks at her work. All three were down, resembling the small boy before. Remembering him, she glances over at the fallen youngster; he was still unconscious but appeared to be fine otherwise. Pulling out her communicator from her pocket, she calls for the hospital and the police, giving them directions to her current location. It will be a little while until they arrive, she checks to make sure the surroundings are safe. Certain there is no immediate danger, the lone figure takes one last glimpse and begins walking away, heading deeper into the city.

"Wait," a young voice suddenly breaks the silence.

Startled, she turns her head sideways to see the injured adolescent struggling to get up. Now, that he is conscious, his savior sees that he comes from a wealthy family. The clothes he wears belong to expensive brand names, now covered in dark footprints. His face and hair is caked with dirt and blood. The left eye is partially swollen while his lips and nose are scraped. He seems to have trouble breathing a little, gasping in the morning air. Struggling to stand, his legs and arms shake unsteadily as he leans against the alleyway wall for support.

"You should rest; the ambulance and the police should be coming soon," the girl tells the hurt boy.

"Where…are you going?" The youth gasps between breathes, determined to stay awake as sirens begin to fill the air.

Hearing the unit coming, she faces forward again towards the rising sun and resumes moving forward into the radiance.

"I'm not really sure myself."

At the end of his strength, he watches her as she steps into the blinding light. Taking one last muster of energy, his mouth barely whispers his last question.

"Who are you?"

Slumping down against the wall, his eyes begin to close as he stares after his protector, disappearing into the city.

"Lightning."


End file.
